white walls
by someonewitheyes
Summary: "Just call us insane and get over it"was the thought of a boy with black hair and green eyes as he sat in his too white room in a too white building. the name of this building was written in bold letters up front: "ST. MARY'S HOME FOR UNBALANCED CHILDREN"
1. prologue

disclaimer: i do not own Harry Potter

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Every day I wake up in the same bed with white sheets, surrounded by white walls in a room with no windows. The only light is that of a fluorescent lamp which is shining down on me. I hate how clean everything is, not a speck of dust is to be seen and I am positive that whoever you are, you won't be able to survive in this white hell without going insane. Not that that mattered for the people who kept him here of course, they all thought that he was already insane to begin with. Not to say that he disagreed with them.

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sooooo, i've been on this site for a pretty long time and have never written anything myself. This is my first time writing anything (not school related) and I would very much like some reviews. this is just a short beginning and i'm planning on making it a long story. please tell me if my English is weird cause its not my native language.


	2. Chapter 1

disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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"Tic-tac, tic-tac, tic-tac", was the sound of the clock that was hanging on the wall as the minute hand slowly moved to point to the black 12. The room it was hanging in was almost completely bare. A bed, desk, chair and of course the clock that kept on ticking.

One boy was sitting on the chair in the middle of the room trying to read a book. The cover said: "war and peace by Leo Tolstoy". Normally reading was something he rather enjoyed doing but at this moment, it was not. First of all, this was because of the man that was sitting opposite of him, on the bed. The man had brown hair and brown eyes; there was a name badge on the white coat he was wearing which said: Oscar Jones Dr. in Social psychology. While looking at the boy he would from time to time scribble something down on the clipboard he had in his hand.

But something like that was normal in the god awful place were the ten-year old had lived for the biggest part of his life. As strange as it may sound, he had become used to being watched every moment of the day. The thing that made him agitated was the fact that for the past months he had been putting on the act of being normal, that he had changed. And honestly, it was beginning to become rather tiring to him. The constant looking of the white coat wearing demons with their fake smiles. Did they really think that he couldn't see through them? The boy wondered. Lately the stress of not being able to be himself had begun to get to him.

But hopefully that would all be over soon. In just a matter of minutes the filth of a man would go away and report that he, Harry Potter, was of sound mind, that he really regretted his actions and that he would be able to live a normal life in the society. It was almost the end of June and the end of the month report will be handed in by Jones, the man that is supposed to heal him. Pff. He can't even see through the terrible acting that he'd been doing. But that was something good for him because the idiot was completely fooled and hopefully he would be gone within the month and be able to go to a normal high school with the starting of the new school year.

With that he could leave this terrible place, and go to a normal orphanage.

So in what kind of place would it be normal for people to be watched like that? That would be "St. Mary's home for unbalanced children ". A place for children who are not quite right in the head, who are as mad as a hatter, who have a few screws lose, and so on and so forth. You know, for the people who are insane.

Someone might wonder what he did to end up in a place like that. But in his opinion he did nothing that accounted as wrong. Those people had deserved it; they had had to be punished for their actions.

_Flashback_

The same boy, but a lot younger was crying inside of a cupboard. It was in the middle of the night and it was pitch black. As silent tears cascaded down from his dirty cheeks he thought about the horrible people that were his relatives. Since the moment that he had arrived there he couldn't even think of a memory that wasn't filled with sadness and anger. And it was all the fault of those disgusting people.

Petunia, Vernon and Dudley.

Sure, Dudley hadn't been so bad in the beginning but from the moment that the fat kid had started to look at the world around him he, Harry, had become his prime target of bullying. And as his parents didn't do anything to stop him and sometimes even encouraged it, it had become worse and worse over the years.

Petunia didn't do anything to help the matter either. Every morning he would get a list of chores handed to him that were impossible to do and if he didn't finish them he wouldn't get any dinner. She just watched as everyday he became more miserable, and the hatred inside of him grew.

But out of the three Vernon was the worst. Calling him a freak and beating him for the slightest mistake. He hadn't done anything bad to the man had he? He couldn't think of anything. What had he done to deserve the way they treated him?

That day had been one of the worse days. From the moment he woke up by the screeching of his aunt, he had worked for hours without end without even eating anything. And at six o'clock, Vernon had come home. Even only from the way his uncle opened the front door could he hear that the man was in a bad mood. And as Vernon walked straight at him after seeing him cleaning the floor in the living room, he had known that it was going to end badly.

"Boy! What are you doing there!"

"Cleaning, uncle Vernon", Harry had said meekly hoping desperately that his uncle wouldn't do anything.

"Well, you're not doing it right." Vernon had said as he swiftly took his belt from his pants and held it above his head.

"No, no! P-please don't." Harry said curling into a ball on the ground as tears of fear began to fall. But that didn't do anything to help as the hand came down and the belt slashed on his back. Repeatedly it came down as the boy tried helplessly to tone down his crying because he knew that it would only make it worse.

After twenty slashes, Harry was a crying mess on the flour.

"Freak, go to your cupboard, _now_." The fat man said menacingly, face red with a satisfied smirk on his face. Harry had tried, really he did, but he hadn't been able to move because of the pain on his back.

"There's nothing you can do right, now is there?" Vernon had said mockingly after which he had picked him up at the collar of his shirt and had thrown him in his cupboard.

And that's where he was now, hours later beaten and bloodied in the dark cupboard, as he unsuccessfully tried to fall asleep.

So really, they had been asking for it.

Because that night something inside of the little Harry Potter snapped.

Harry thought about his hatred for _those people_ and how he wanted to hurt them, make them feel the pain that they had made him feel. And as he kept on crying and crying a strange power inside of him grow. The boy noticed it first as an odd kind of warmth he could feel in the middle of his chest. Alarmed but too far gone to actually care he let it grow and it gradually spread over his whole body ending in the tips of his fingers. He was shocked as he looked at his hands, angry red flames surrounded them, licking at his fingers. But it didn't hurt, and then with some strange kind of understanding of which he didn't know the origins he realized it wouldn't ever hurt, because those flames were his.

Feeding more of the strange power into his hands he saw the flames grow bigger and bigger. He started to feel a strange sort of elation inside of him as he knew that with that power he would be able to finally punish the people that had hurt him.

Slowly he reached out to the wall surrounding him and as he touched it, the flames jumped over and rapidly began to spread.

An insane kind of giggle bubbled up from his chest and it gradually developed into an earsplitting laugh that should definitely not be coming out of the mouth of a small child.

The boy could hear the irritated grouses of his uncle upstairs as he woke up from the laughing.

He quickly reached out to the door and the flames, _his flames_, burned a hole into it through which he stepped. He walked slowly, to the beginning of the stairs, as if having the time of his life, and touched the wall with his flaming right hand, pictures of a family, none of which he was in, burned and fell to the ground. Reaching the stairs he began to ascend them, at which point the giant fat man had come to see what was happening, his wife trailing behind him.

The man's eyes bulged seeing the fire and as his eyes landed on the small child who was coming closer with each step, flames in hand, they widened to an almost impossible size. Petunia let out a small screech as she saw her freak of a nephew. Not knowing what to do with this seemingly impossible situation he found himself in, Vernon said the first thing which came to his mind.

"Boy! What are you doing! Go away now and put that fire out!"

"Now why would I do that?" the child answered with a too sweet smile which didn't reach his eyes. Trying an idea he thought of just a second ago Harry made a ball of fire in his hands and threw it at the man he hated most in his life. Said man stumbled back and the ball of fire landed on the arm of his wife who was standing beside him. She screamed out of pain as her skin burned and the fire spread over her body. Trying her best to put it out and screaming for help to her shell-shocked husband who couldn't do anything but stare as the mother of his child was consumed by fire. Petunia fell to the ground, a scream of agony the last thing that left her mouth. Meanwhile little Harry laughed in glee and clapped his hands together, making small sparks fly in every direction.

"Well that was fun, now wasn't it?" Harry asked smiling. Not waiting for an answer he started climbing the stairs again. Vernon, now truly realizing the danger he was in and still not able to comprehend what had just happened stood up shakily and staggered to the room his son.

"Dudley! Hurry wake up! We have to get out of here!"

He said after he opened the door to the room of his son. Looking around he quickly picked up the unused baseball bet that was lying in the corner and faced the door. At which point Harry had already arrived there. Dudley, not realizing the dire situation that he was in, sleepily opened his eyes and looked around.

"What's the matter, dad?" he asked. Vernon started to answer but Harry interrupted him.

"To answer that question I think I'm the matter." That strange smile appearing again on his face.

"Go away, you freak! Go away and leave with your freak powers!" Vernon said with fear evident in his voice. Harry, still having enough sanity to think about what he had said realized that his uncle knew something about this strange power that had come to him. Deciding quickly, he slashed his hand out and created a wall of fire round Vernon, effectively cutting him of from Dudley. Turning his head and eyeing Dudley he approached the bed he was sitting on.

"What… what is happening" Dudley asked, crying, clearly afraid of what his normally weak cousin was doing. The stench of urine reached Harry's nose as a wet spot was beginning to show in the bedding.

"You are going to die here Dudley dearest" he said with a smile.

He then reached out his blazing hands and grabbed his cousin's head. Screaming out in pain Dudley tried to put the fire out but unsuccessful he also fell under the fire, just as his mother had, a few minutes ago.

"No! Dudley!" Vernon screamed, now tears filling his eyes as he finally realized that he had just lost his family. The bat was left forgotten next to him as anger clouded his eyes and he turned to watch his nephew who was regarding his tears with something akin to satisfaction.

"How dare you! You piece of shit! How dare you-"but he didn't manage to finish his sentence as a flame reached his right leg and a fire started at his pants. Franticly yelling he tried to put it out but only managed after his leg was already severely burned.

As the man lay there looking at the demon child in front of him surrounded by flame, desperation caught him.

"Please. Please don't kill me!"

"I can't do that Vernon, you deserve to die right here right now." The child answered with a soft voice. "But before that I would like to ask you some questions. Do you know what this power is?"

Vernon, the man that he is, could not hold his tong to insult the child, not even in the situation that he was in.

"Huh! Of course I know. Those are your freak powers, the reason why the likes of you shouldn't exist! I knew you would turn out like this. Petunia should have listened to my when I told her that you would ruin our family. You are just like your parents! Just like those other freaks! You-"at that moment he began to cough as the smoke of the fire got in his lungs.

"Hm. I think I've heard enough" Harry said and he turned around and walked out of the room, leaving the wounded man caged in fire next to the scorched body of his son.

"What! NO! Don't leave me here! BOY!"

Said boy, his purpose achieved, ignored him and kept on walking, still smiling. Around him the house began to fall apart as the flames spread from room to room. Stepping over the charred form of his Aunt he descended the stairs, which fell apart behind him. Only then did he hear the yelling that could be heard outside from the people of the neighborhood who had noticed the fire.

Just as he stepped outside he began again with that piercing laugh after hearing the dying scream as the life of his uncle ended.

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

_End Flashback_

And that was why he was here. Harry couldn't help but twitch the corner of his lips as he thought back to it. It had been the best day of his life so for. Not that that was anything hard to accomplish with how the rest of his life had been. From the corner of his eye he could see that Jones had noticed his twitch and was writing said thing down. The child wondered if it was seen as something positive but he supposed it was. Normal children laughed right?

Of course he had tried to plead innocence after the incident but it seemed that ten witnesses of his insane laughing didn't really help his proclamation. Neither did the fact that his Aunt had spread rumors about what a barbaric child he was. So the general knowledge was that he, Harry Potter, had at age four used a lighter to set his house on fire and had so killed his family who were also present in the house. The lighter had for all that they knew burned with the house.

But really, he could understand that it was bad to set his house on fire, but in his opinion he hadn't done anything else that wasn't allowed. It wasn't like the killing of his relatives mattered, everyone should be happy that he killed them for them. But no, he had to be put in an asylum for insane people.

So for six years he had lived here, though hopefully not for a lot longer, and had lived a life with the disgusting medians, as he had chosen to call them. Because he still couldn't get those last words of his uncle out of his head: "You are just like your parents! Just like those other freaks!" Vernon had said that his parents were the same as him, that there were other like him and that was the only reason why every single irritating median wasn't dead yet. Because if there were others like him, and they hadn't done anything to the medians yet, it meant that at least a large part of them didn't agree with his views...

So that's why he had planned, he had decided to act normal so that he wouldn't be regarded as insane, he would train his power so that he would be able to at least control it to an acceptable level, he would get out of this disgusting place, search for others like him and… that's about as far as he got at this moment in time. He would think about the rest later. So he was currently working on point three, which he hoped, would be achieved in just a manner of minutes. So you might think it weird that he would be allowed out after having killed his relatives but the doctors had noticed the scars on his body and with a bit of crying and "hesitantly" telling the doctors of his abuse they had decided that his setting his house on fire was an act of desperation which for them meant that his level of insaneness was lower than first thought.

But to get back to point two. At first he hadn't been able to call out his fire much less even the feeling of his power. He had tried for a few months to get the feeling he had that night back but sadly it hadn't worked. But one night, about half a year after they had locked him up, he had had a terrible nightmare. Having nightmares wasn't such an uncommon thing for him but it had been especially bad that night. Waking up screaming he had had to be restrained by one of the doctors but in panic he had pushed his power out onto the doctor. Said doctor had been flown back and had been smashed against the wall opposite of his bed and had fallen unconscious. His holders had written it of as some weird accident but Harry had noticed that they had been more careful around him after that. Probably because he had laughed after the other doctors had taken him away to take him to a hospital. But to get back to the point, after that event his power had come back more naturally to him. He had had to be cautious not to get caught but gradually he had trained himself and at this moment in time he could easily call out his fire and manipulate it. It felt in sync with him, equally crazy and equally eager to satisfy his will to hurt the vile people around him. Sadly enough it had not yet come to that because he didn't want to be found out but he promised himself and his fire that the day that he could use his power freely was soon approaching.

Harry had also come to notice that it wasn't only fire that he could control. It took a lot more out of him to achieve but if he willed himself enough he could make things fly or create things out of nothing.

Though he himself thought it rather incredible he knew that he shouldn't get too arrogant while being around the medians because he didn't know the standard of what was good or bad for the other of his kind. Just then, the minute hand reached the twelve.

"Thank you for today's session mister Potter." Jones said calmly and gently smiled as he stood up.

"Thank you, Doctor Jones." Harry answered giving him a hesitant smile back, as was protocol in St. Mary's. And as he looked at jones' back as he was left alone in the white walled room, he knew that he would soon be able to get out and be free.

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please read & review!


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